


Light Up the Night

by plinys



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Chrismukkah, Hanukkah, I just wanted to write a holiday fic, Kissing at Midnight, M/M, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-27
Updated: 2013-11-27
Packaged: 2018-01-02 19:09:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1060506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plinys/pseuds/plinys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Though he did tease him for a few days by calling him a Grinch, because apparently the fact that Hermann has neither seen nor read ‘How the Grinch Stole Christmas’ is truly a travesty even if they’re both technically Jewish.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Light Up the Night

**Author's Note:**

> So for some reason my friends and I were looking up the future dates of Hanukkah, since you know, it changes.  
> And fun fact: In the year 2024 Hanukkah will start the day after Christmas, which spawned this fic!
> 
> Also, Happy Hanukkah for all of you reading this fic. I know technically I'm a few hours early, but I wanted to make sure this was up in time, and since I'll be driving home most of the day later, I figured posting now was better than later!

Technically Newt’s Jewish, but only in the vaguest sense of the word.

His mother was Jewish so by lineage that means that he is too, and actually he’s pretty certain that his dad’s side of the family is Jewish too, but they never really cared much for going to temple.

Religion is just something he never really thinks about unless it’s convenient  like when he’s checking boxes on his college application, or when able to get out of a midterm examination because “Professor Bernstein, today’s Rosh HaShanah, it’s literally again my religion to take this test.”

Or when it’s inconvenient, like when there’s some anti-Semitic asshole in the room and he just can’t keep his mouth shut, so Newt helps him figure out how to do just that.

Though the vast majority of the time it sits there like a vague little reminder in the back of his mind that he conveniently forgets when he goes to get his tattoos or is offered a bacon cheeseburger.

Because nobody in their right mind turns down a bacon cheeseburger, those things are literally the food the gods.

When he’s off at college, already being an outsider to his peers due to his age, Newt finds it easier to just go along with the Christmas festivities rather than trying to stick to the vague hint he has of his roots. Instead of trying to get in touch with his so called culture, he spends his winter exchanging gifts with people he’s barely talked to, and allowing a pair of foam antler ears to be stuck on his head and flashing a grin at a camera pointed in his direction.

And over the years he just sort of forgets that he’s missing out on things.

He goes to the Christmas parties with a Santa hat pressed on his head, and tells anybody who asks that Christmas is really just an adaption of a pagan holiday and he’s not religious anyways.

Until he ends up squished into a lab with somebody else who is also vaguely Jewish, who neither believes in religion nor subscribes to it, he calls math the handwriting of god, like that’s his defense against all of that nonsense.

They’re both scientists, too smart for their own good, realizing early on that a supreme beings creating the world seems silly, there’s a logical explanation for everything though while Newton paints his story with biology and Hermann replies in physics and numbers, they both agree on one thing, that religion is just something for the naïve to believe.

Still, if he notices Hermann choosing a turkey sandwich over a ham sandwich he doesn’t point it out, and he most certainly doesn’t point out how he cringes every time somebody uses the popular portmanteau to describe their most blessed holiday season.

Though he did tease him for a few days by calling him a Grinch, because apparently the fact that Hermann has neither seen nor read ‘ _How the Grinch Stole Christmas’_ is truly a travesty even if they’re both technically Jewish.

But seriously, who in their right mind doesn’t at least know who the Grinch is?

Anyways, there’s not much time to think about holiday seasons when the end of the world is coming and they’re trying to stop it.

For years on end Newt spends all eight nights of Hanukkah and Christmas as well, locked in a lab elbows deep in kaiju gets with the familiar sound of Hermann’s chalk against his board as the only noise between them.

Except by some freak occurrence it is 2024 and suddenly everybody cares about what he’s celebrating again.

Tendo’s the one who brings it up first while they’re eating at the canteen, or well when Newt’s picking at his food and Tendo’s sipping on coffee that he’s gotten from god knows where. His elbows are against the table as he looks over at Newt through the steam coming off his cup, “did you know Hanukkah is on the same day as Christmas this year.”

“It’s the day after,” Newt corrects, already not liking where this conversation is going, and making a particular point to stab his fork into the green beans on his plate that he really doesn’t want to eat, and stuffs them into his mouth with exaggerated force.

“Doesn’t matter,” Tendo continues, “because when midnight hits on our Christmas extravaganza, becomes a Chrismukkah party, and I’ve got a few bottles of smuggled champagne that says this is a wonderful idea.”

Chrismukkah just sounds awful.

Whoever came up with that name ought to be taken out back and drawn and quartered.

Actually, Newt knows for a fact where the name comes from, or what made it popular, and did watch that particular episode of the OC with a grumpy face on just to prove a point. He then proceeded to watch the other four seasons of the show, but that is neither here nor there.

Though to be fair, Chrismukkah is not nearly as bad as the time they called it Thanksgivukkah; Newt still has war flashbacks to those days. There were turkey shaped menorahs for god’s sake.

The very mental image makes him cringe to this day.

Still, he nods along, keeping his mouth busy by stuffing more of the awful greenery into it, thinking mildly about the fact that if Hermann was there to see it he would be oddly pleased with the fact that Newt was eating something other than junk food.

“Just tell me you’ll be there,” Tendo finishes his long explanation.

“Was that even really a question?”

The thing is, Newt loves a good party, and everybody needs a chance to unwind, especially cooped up in a Shatterdome like this.

And when Newt says everybody he literally means it, which is why when the day finally rolls around he spends most of it badgering Hermann and convincing him to go with, because, “it will be fun, and you of all people could use some fun. It won’t kill you I promise.”

In the end, he has to offer to keep his earphones in for the next week following, rather than blasting music as usual, in order to convince Hermann to go along with him to the party, but Newt is relatively sure that it will be worth it.

“I cannot believe you dragged me to this,” Hermann says about ten minutes into the party.

He’s found himself a corner to close into and Newt finds him after spending a very minimal time looking for him. He offers out the other cup of champagne, which is the weakest alcohol in existence, but none of them have been able to get their hands on anything better in months so neither complains.

“Just _try_ and enjoy yourself,” Newt says, with a silly grin, before slipping back off into the crowd of people.

At some point in the night things start to get more crazy, and the clock hits midnight, and somebody convinces Newt to take a couple jello shots, that appear seemingly out of nowhere, before leading a very poor rendition of the dreidel song, because hey, it’s Hanukkah and somebody asked, and honestly just about anything sounds like a good idea right about now.

They’ve got another round of drinks going, before he actually remembers his lab partner that he had dragged to this party, and as luck would have it Hermann is exactly where Newt had left him hours before, still bundled up in his parka sitting in the corner.

“Hermann, my man,” Newt says by way of greeting and he slides up to the other man, “what’s with the whole grumpy gills look?”

“As I have informed you many times before Dr. Geiszler,” and oh – it’s one of those nights, “that is just my face.”

He laughs at that, maybe a bit too loudly, “but Christmas is over, you can stop with the Scrooge impression until next year.”

“I still don’t understand-“

“Oh hey, dude, look,” Newt says cutting him off, his eyes flicking up to what happens to be above them, “mistletoe.”

“No,” Hermann replies dryly.

“Tis the season,” he insists.

“The season you’re speaking of ended about twenty minutes ago.”

“But Herms-“

“I told you not to call me that,” he cuts in sharply, “and anyways, neither of us celebrates this nonsense anyways. It would be silly to-“

“What if I said I was just looking for an excuse to kiss you?”

The words are off his lips before he can even really think about what he’s saying, but now that they’re out in the open it’s too late to take them back now. Later he could blame it on the drinks that they’ve had or something like that, but neither has really had that much to drink, and Hermann is staring at him like he’s just said the craziest thing in the world.

“You what?”

Maybe it’s the buzz of the contraband alcohol in his system, or the fact this whole night has been completely ridiculous and Hermann looks completely adorable in that over stuffed coat, honestly, Newt couldn’t point to exactly what it was that made him lean forward and press their lips together. There’s that moment when he thinks it’s a mistake, where he’s about to pull back and try and laugh it off, but then he’s kissing back, and the hell if Newt’s going to mess this one up.

Finally after what seems like a millennia they pull apart, though not too far, the air from their breaths mixing in front of them.

Newt is first to break the silence a smirk on his lips as he says barely above a whisper, “Happy Hanukkah.”

“You’re about eighteen hours too early,” Hermann corrects, and if Newt wasn’t so smitten he would probably find that annoying, but well, somebody once said love was blinding or some shit like that.

“Yeah, well, the holiday has come early this year,” he says, before leaning forward once more and reclaiming those lips as his own. 


End file.
